The Valley of the Lights

A satirical rambling of how we can never truly escape our past. 'The Valley of the lights' symbolic for the colorful yet still somewhat dark nature dotted in our minds which is history. Also, insinuations of a former prostitute past/life of vice

The Valley of the Lights

Alone I abscond, to The Valley of the Lights Not a single soul in sight, my face painted white Basked in twilight, each working man's excite But it's that of fright, which takes the whores delight Roxanne they call, come down from your stall A look of appal, but don't you worry, there's more to enthral Take this busker for instance, never you make your distance; it's here I made my very existence, come here, give him six pence! Yet still alone I tread, like a needle, without a thread Beguiled in contempt, any aspiration now dead But I carry on instead, because let's face it Never will you see a place so bright I arrive home again, at last, The Valley of the Lights

It is there in my hotel chamber, where I find no such manger That I'm left with nothing but endless wails of debauchery Old man. Cruel Eyes. Filled up with glee. Oh what I wouldn't give to castrate the misery! I say this, but then I leave, contradiction wrote all over my sleave Throwing myself into the pit of lost souls Men without goals, women who put on shows An endless and deadly life of vice Though something must entice, for me to pay the price Of a downward spiral amongst my dear creatures of the night Once again, inflamed with ignite I walk, my one and only road, The Valley of the Lights

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